Posted by in Poems on Aug 11, 2013

The Goblin Prince when the moonlight shone,

with drums and flutes he goaded us on,

there was magic under the moon.


But the night of the Goblin Prince is gone.

He has vanished away into stick and stone,

the magic since is man’s alone,

it has conjured him up to the moon


which hangs in the morning pale and wan,

for men have walked over the moon.


But the Goblin waits in stick and stone.

“Lo how my magic all has grown!

Soon I shall claim it back as my own.

I shall rise and be terrible very soon.”